Rejected
by silent.one137
Summary: What lead up to Myrtle's death?


A/N- So I've been sitting on this story for quite a while and I've been meaning to publish it. It's my first fanfic so I hope people will like it!

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><p>Myrtle's POV<p>

Myrtle sighed as she dropped the latch into the slot and leaned back against the stall door. Classes had drained her and she would have gone back to take a nap unless Jessica Smithey hadn't started making fun of her for her hair for the umpteenth time. So she came here, the grimy bathroom that served as an instant refuge. You'd think the water would clean things up a bit but it only spurred on the growth of slimy green goo floating across the surface of toilet water puddles.

It was actually quite dismal in here; the paint chipped and faded from the walls and the tiles pitted and scarred from constant use. To Myrtle, every defect was beautiful in her second home, even the cracks in the window panes. She came here when she was happy or sad or mad.

She came here especially to lament her mediocrity. Myrtle wanted to be special in every kind of way. Everyone made fun of her for her "chunkiness", her clothes, her hair and she was tired of it.

_What am I going to do about it in a broken old bathroom? _She thought. _It'll take a miracle for anything exciting to happen here. _

Riddle's POV

Things were not working out for me. Many of my followers failed their assignments, leaving me having to finish my project all by myself. I couldn't believe that less than five percent of the Slytherin House couldn't even speak Parseltongue. It was so time consuming but I guess if you want something done, you've got to do it yourself.

That's why I was sneaking around at midnight. I had a job to do and I wasn't going to let some pubescent tantrums get in my way.

Riddle strode through the halls with immense power and authority. Even the rat that got in his way underfoot was mercilessly trampled and killed. Worse would be done to humans inhibiting his rise to power. In moods like this, it was impossible to control him.

He reached the end and pushed open the door leading to the second floor Girls' bathroom. He had to find out whether it really existed…

Myrtle's POV

Myrtle started as she heard the _creak_ of the heavy bathroom door being opened. She had been carefully devising revenge plans before the rude interruption. Angrily whipping herself off the bathroom floor, Myrtle approached the stall door with the intent of telling off whoever dared interrupt her quiet place until she hesitated.

Myrtle was never the type of person to directly confront the person with whom she had a conflict. Like most of her peers, she devised plots and schemes to humiliate and ruin the person's life through social means. So when she got up to face the person directly, she had many misgivings. She watched her hand clench and unclench the handle, waiting for it to open the door seemingly out of its own will. That is, until she heard the person speak.

The voice before had been so beautiful; she had automatically been drawn to the melodious hissing occurring outside her stall door. The hissing stopped momentarily as the person moved across the floor to the other side of the room. He or she started hissing again, this time with such persistence in his voice. His grief was palpable even from this far away.

Riddle's POV

_Why won't it OPEN? I made sure to bring it everything it wanted, even spread blood on the fangs of the rightmost snake faucet. Am I not worthy enough? If I'm not worthy enough than who will be?_

With an enraged cry, Riddle smashed his fists into the mirror, breaking both skin and glass. He didn't even feel the stabs of pain coursing down his arms.

_I've been researching this for years now and I can't even get in?_

Tears started coursing down Tom's face. He angrily tried to wipe them away with the back of his hand but only succeeded in smearing blood on his face.

Myrtle's POV

_That sounds like a male voice but surely can't be a boy. Wait, what's a boy doing in a _girl's _bathroom? _Myrtle thought. She reached for the latch but hesitated. She felt bad for whoever was out there. She just wanted to talk to him or her to see what was wrong. Greif can be lonely to bear alone, this much she knew.

Her hand was almost to the lock when she heard something smash into glass.

_What in the world was that? _Myrtle wondered but was almost too scared to investigate the source. _I'd prefer to stay in the safety of this bathroom stall if the person's breaking glass but I'd feel bad afterwards for not helping someone when I could._

Not wanting to disturb the person outside, she stepped out of the stall noiselessly. She avoided the large puddles of water scattered by ghosts' cannon balling into toilets. Cracked mirrors lined the walls in which Myrtle could see her reflection advancing to the vulnerable back of none other than Tom Riddle.

As soon as Myrtle recognized the slim frame and jet black hair, she recoiled in surprise and hatred. She immediately regretted feeling even the least bit sorry for him. Tom Riddle was never popular in the unpopular crowd. He represented oppression, years of sitting alone at lunch tables, humiliation for the smallest of flaws. She hated how he especially picked on the Muggle-borns, calling them Mudbloods when they should be praised for possessing the trait that many Muggles crave.

Unfortunately, when she jumped back, Myrtle landed straight in a puddle. Riddle whipped his face to face the intruder. Myrtle was surprised to see red eyes and a tearstained face looking back at her and instantly started feeling bad for Riddle. He just looked so _vulnerable_ she could barely recognize the sobbing boy as the usually impassive, invincible Tom Riddle.

_His hands! Bleeding so profusely… Well, serves him right to be punching mirrors. How stupid is he?_

These thoughts had barely passed Myrtle's mind before Riddle's face hardened into his usual mask and he assumed his arrogant air. Advancing towards her, he opened his mouth.

"Can't you read the sign? It says out of order."

_Can't _you _read the sign? It says Girls Only. _Myrtle wanted so desperately to voice the exclamations in her head but couldn't for the fear of angering him. She could only stand there with round eyes as Tom Riddle tried to glare at her with pink rimmed eyes.

Riddle smirked as she failed to answer his simple question. At this, she stuck her chin forward, indignant at his unfairly taking advantage of her. But there was nothing she could say that he couldn't contest.

He finally noticed her staring at his hands and looked down at them. Until this point, he hadn't considered the consequences of his rash action. Now he thought of the lies he'd have to deliver to cover up the strange injury. Of course, he could heal the skin in seconds but the broken knuckles would be more troublesome.

Myrtle suddenly disappeared behind the stalls, leaving Riddle standing there flexing the muscles in his hand. He didn't even notice her absence until she came back with bandages in her arms.

"Hold your hands out, please." Myrtle asked with lowered eyes. She was still afraid of him and thought that not helping him would cause him even more annoyance than leaving him alone.

Riddle's POV

_Why is she helping me? I didn't ask for it… She must want something in return for the services. _

Even with the apprehension, Riddle presented his hands with a disdainful air.

"Don't tie them too tight, it'll reduce blood circulation. Don't tie them too loose, the cuts won't heal fast enough." Riddle proclaimed superiorly. Myrtle bowed her head down both to concentrate on the task and hide her annoyance at Riddle's haughty behavior. She sighed to herself as she finished on the first bandage only to have Riddle cluck disapprovingly at her apparently unsatisfactory work.

"Now the other hand." Riddle stated with raised eyebrows as Myrtle pulled out another bandage. As soon as she was done, Riddle rose to his feet.

Riddle glared at her and growled "Don't tell anyone what you have seen here tonight or I will kill you. I mean it, one little mention of tonight and you'll definitely regret it."

With that, he strode out of the bathroom without a backwards glance.

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><p>Don't worry, there's more coming; I just want to see how many people are interested. So if you want to hear the rest of the story, rate and review!<p> 


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